Across Southeast Asia, textiles were used to adorn, protect and to add merit and value to written works. These textiles are works of art in themselves, featuring intricate patterns and in some cases inscriptions that provide contextual information about manuscripts. Often, they were custom-made from valuable hand-woven silk brocades, dyed or painted cotton, as well as fabrics with complex designs made in the ikat technique. The use of imported materials like chintz, silk damask, felt, or printed fabrics reflects the trade and exchange relations within Southeast Asia and beyond.

A new display highlights the British Library’s collaboration with external experts and graduate students. Chevening Fellow Noon Methaporn Singhanan researched and catalogued manuscript textiles during a 12-month project in 2022-23 and Khin Kyi Phyu Thant described and translated Burmese Sazigyo (manuscript binding ribbons) during a five-week internship organised through the Southeast Asian Art Academic Programme of the School of Oriental and African Studies, London, in 2022.

Tube-skirt wrapper for palm leaf manuscripts. Northern Laos, mid-20th century, purchased in 2012. British Library, Or 16886

This protective wrapper was made from a re-purposed luxury tube-skirt to wrap around several bundles of palm leaf manuscripts. It originates from a Tai Moei ethnic community in northern Laos. The main section of this woman’s tube-skirt has an ikat pattern, where the yarn has been dyed before weaving. It is also intertwined with metal foil threads imported from Europe. The lower section, or 'foot', is a colourful woven textile made from silk and cotton yarns. Valuable textiles or clothes like this example were often re-purposed as wrappers for Buddhist scriptures in Laos and neighbouring regions. Donating clothes of deceased loved ones to re-use as manuscript wrappers was regarded as an act of merit in the Lao Buddhist tradition, and they reflected the faith and wealth of the deceased and the donors.

Burmese wrapping mat for a kammavaca manuscript. Myanmar (Burma), 18th century, purchased in 1838 from J. Polson Esq. British Library, Egerton MS 735

This vibrant mat was used to wrap a beautifully decorated, lacquered kammavaca manuscript which contains a ritual text in Pali language, used in monastic ordination ceremonies. The colourful zig-zag patterns were made locally by intertwining cotton yarn and bamboo slats. This type of manuscript cover was widely used in Myanmar, but also in Northern Thailand and Laos. The combination of bamboo slats and yarn made it very strong and therefore it protected the manuscript well against insects and the elements.

Burmese sazigyo with inscription. Myanmar (Burma), dated 1894, donated by Jill Morley Smith in 2011. British Library Or 16817

Sazigyo (binding ribbons) were made by women weavers in Myanmar to wrap around Buddhist palm leaf manuscripts. This multicoloured example of exceptional quality is nearly five metres long and contains text in round Burmese script, auspicious symbols and figures. It was made in the tablet weaving technique on a portable loom worn strapped around the back of the weaver. This method uses small tablets (or cards) with holes through which the threads of the warp are strung. Inscriptions and patterns are created by turning the tablets. Generally, the texts on sazigyo record merits or prayers, names of donors, and sometimes location and date of the donation.

Malay cloth envelope. Sumatra, Indonesia, 1824, Raffles Family Collection. British Library MSS EUR D.742/1/61

Malay letters to and from rulers were often sent in yellow silk or cotton envelopes. The name and address of the recipient was written on a piece of paper which was wrapped around the fabric pouch and fastened on the reverse by entwining the two intricately cut-out paper ends. Shown here are envelopes from two Royal Malay letters sent to Thomas Stamford Raffles, then Governor of Bengkulu on the island of Sumatra, in 1824. The yellow envelope (above) is made of imported patterned damask silk and was from the Adipati or senior minister of the city of Palembang, Sumatra. The plain cotton envelope (below) was from the Temenggung, the ruler of Johor on the Malay peninsula.

Malay cloth envelope. Johor, Malaysia, 1824, Raffles Family Collection, British Library MSS EUR D.742/1/149 & 180.

Curators of the Southeast Asia Section, with contributions by Noon Methaporn Singhanan and Khin Kyi Phyu Thant

Further reading
Burmese manuscript conservation success. Royal Asiatic Society (accessed 20 November 2024) 
Chan, Vanessa, Sarsikyo. Woven Buddhist ribbons of Myanmar. Nalanda-Sriwijaya Centre Working Paper No. 29 (Dec 2018) 
Igunma, Jana and Noon Methaporn Singhanan, Drawn from across the globe: manuscript textiles in the Southeast Asian collections. British Library Asian African Studies blog (2 October 2023) 

This is the second in a series of five blog posts on the provenance of the Colebrooke Collection of Sanskrit manuscripts now in the British Library, following the first post, which introduced the Colebrooke Family and the East India Company.

 

According to the historian Christopher Fleming, while in India, Colebrooke ‘assembled the world’s most extensive collection of Sanskrit legal manuscripts’ (Fleming 2021, p. 192). Why did he do this, and what is the story behind this?

 

Pages from Colebrooke’s copy of the Vyavahāratattva, a legal digest composed by the sixteenth-century scholar Raghunandana. These pages include Colebrooke’s own notes and translation. British Library, IO San 191c

 

Henry Thomas Colebrooke (1765-1837) arrived in India in 1783, while Warren Hastings was Governor General. In the preceding years, Hastings had been responsible for a range of reforms to the East India Company’s governance in India. One of the areas he focused on was the administration of justice. A new system of courts was set up, operating at local and regional levels and overseen by superior courts in Calcutta [Kolkata]. Though the judges were British, they were to try cases according to local law. Furthermore, in cases ‘regarding inheritance, marriage, and caste, and all religious usages and institutions’ this was to be tailored according to whether those appearing in the courts were of the Muslim or Hindu faith (IOR/V/8/15). To ensure this was done correctly, local law officers were appointed, and in the case of Hindu law, these officers were referred to as ‘pandits’.

 

For centuries it had been a practice in India for pandits who were experts in law to be consulted during legal disputes. The Company’s employment of them as law officers can therefore be seen as a continuation of this policy. At the same time, however, Hastings also sought to set down a standardised body of Hindu law ‘in order to render more complete the judicial regulations, to preclude arbitrary and partial judgements, and to guide the decisions of the several courts’ (IOR/E/4/31, f 447). A team of eleven pandits were commissioned to compile a suitable reference work, and a copy of their completed digest, titled Vivādārṇavasetu, can be found in the Colebrooke Collection (IO San 3145a). It was later translated, via Persian, into English as A Code of Gentoo Laws, or, Ordinations of the Pundits.

 

Front page of A Code of Gentoo Laws, or, Ordinations of the Pundits (London, 1776).  British Library, 26.i.6

 

Perceived deficiencies in Hasting’s code led to a new digest being commissioned, under the direction of the scholar and judge Sir William Jones. Again, pandits were employed to compile the material under the oversight of Jones, who was also to make a direct translation into English. However, Jones died before he could embark on this translation, and the task was taken up by Colebrooke. A copy of the original Sanskrit version of the digest, titled Vivādabhaṅgārṇava, can be found in the Colebrooke Collection (IO San 1767-1770), and the translation was published in 1798 as A Digest of Hindu Law on Contracts and Successions.

 

Front page to the first volume of A Digest of Hindu Law on Contracts and Successions (Calcutta, 1798). British Library, 5319.f.12.

 

However, Colebrooke was dissatisfied with this digest. In particular, he felt it was too long (the English translation consisted of four volumes), and he blamed this on the ‘copious commentary’ produced by Jagannātha Tarkapañcānana, the pandit in charge of the compilation (Colebrooke 1798, p. ix). Shortly after this, Colebrooke proposed a supplementary work and offered to oversee the work of the pandits, adding, "I should restrain the compilers from inserting a long train of argument in support, or in refutation, of the opinions cited by them, which has so greatly swelled the digest of Law on Contracts and Succession" (IOR/F/4/39/974)

 

The pandits, first and foremost, were scholars who were concerned with understanding the complexities of legal tradition and debate. The interpretation of Hindu law varied greatly across India, so for the pandits it was important to pay attention to these differences. Colebrooke, however, was concerned with establishing principles which could be applied in a uniform way across the different regions ruled by the British. He therefore became impatient with the pandits he employed for his new work. This is documented in a marginal note he added to a manuscript one of the pandits, called Bāla Śarman Pāyaguṇḍe, had produced for him: "After the experience I have had, that no Pandit is capable (or adapted by his habits of thinking) to compile a digest in the form I require, I must now seriously set about compiling it myself" (IO San 37).

 

A page from the Dharmaśāstrasaṃgraha with Colebrooke’s notes. British Library, IO San 37.

 

Colebrooke would continue to employ pandits to supply material for him, but he now took on responsibility for compiling the final text himself. His work on the supplementary digest continued for a number of years, but was ultimately abandoned. Instead, in 1810, Colebrooke published Two Treatises on the Hindu Law of Inheritance, an annotated English translation of the Dāyabhāga and the Mitākṣarā, two twelfth-century legal texts. In the preface, he explained why he had decided to publish this translation rather than his planned supplementary digest:

"In a general compilation, where the authorities are greatly multiplied, and the doctrines of many different schools, and of numerous authors are contrasted and compared, the reader is at a loss to collect the doctrines of a particular school and to follow the train of reasoning by which they are maintained. He is confounded by the perpetual conflict of discordant opinions and jarring deductions; and by the frequent transition from the positions of one sect to the principles of another. It may be useful then, that such a compilation should be preceded by the separate publication of the most approved works of each school. By exhibiting in an exact translation the text of the author with notes selected from the glosses of his commentators or from the works of other writers of the same school, a correct knowledge of that part of the Hindu law, which is expressly treated by him, will be made more easily attainable, than by trusting solely to a general compilation" (Colebrooke 1810, p. iii).

 

Colebrooke therefore sought to avoid the uncertainty and confusion created, as he saw it, by the many voices of Hindu legal scholarship, and instead to bring into focus what he identified as the two original and distinct ‘schools’ of law which existed in the regions of India under British rule. His translation included ‘annotations necessary to the illustration of the text’, but these, he explained, could be disregarded by those unfamiliar with Sanskrit. The English reader, he insisted, could rely on his scholarship:

"Having verified with great care the quotations of authors, as far as means are afforded to me by my own collection of Sanscrit law books (which includes, I believe, nearly all that are extant) I have added at the foot of the page notes of references to the places in which the texts are found. They will be satisfactory to the reader as demonstrating the general correctness of the original citations" (Colebrooke 1810, p. v).

 

Interestingly, then, the reason the Colebrooke Collection contains such a large number of Sanskrit legal manuscripts is Colebrooke’s dislike of the scholarly practices of the pandits who produced these manuscripts for him. Frustrated by their attention to the interpretative nuances of Hindu law, and desiring to produce a legal framework which could be easily applied by the British, Colebrooke took it upon himself to study and interpret Hindu law. To do this, he gathered his famous collection of Sanskrit legal manuscripts. However, despite his aversion to the methods of the pandits, he was nevertheless dependent on them to acquire, or produce, copies of the texts he required. The next blog post will look at the stories of two of these pandits.

 

In the third blog post on the provenance of the Colebrooke Collection, we will look at the stories of two of the pandits who worked with Colebrooke.

 

Works Consulted

Colebrooke, Henry Thomas (trans.), A Digest of Hindu Law on Contracts and Successions (Calcutta: Honourable Company's Press, 1798).

Colebrooke, Henry Thomas, (trans.), Two Treatises on the Hindu Law of Inheritance (Calcutta: Hindoostanee Press, 1810).

Fleming, Christopher T., Ownership and Inheritance in Sanskrit Jurisprudence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2021).

Letter from the Government of Bengal to the Court of Directors, 25 March 1773. British Library, IOR/E/4/31, f 447.

Letter from H. T. Colebrooke to the Government of Bengal, 20 August 1797. British Library, IOR/F/4/39/974.

Regulation No. 27, from Regulations for the Administration of Justice, recorded on the Revenue Proceedings of Government, on the 28th March 1780; and passed by the Governor General and Council on the 11th April 1780. British Library, IOR/V/8/15.

Dharmaśāstrasaṃgraha. British Library, IO San 37.

Vivādārṇavasetu. British Library, IO San 3145a.

Vivādabhaṅgārṇava. British Library, IO San 1767-1770.

 

David Woodbridge, Provenance Researcher Sanskrit Collections (REAP pilot project 2023-2025)

This is the first in a series of five blog posts on the provenance of the Colebrooke Collection of Sanskrit manuscripts in the British Library.

Bust of Henry Thomas Colebrooke (1765-1837), by Henry Weekes, commissioned by the Royal Asiatic Society in 1837. RAS 02.008 

‘I am commanded to offer you in the name of the Court their best thanks and acknowledgements for the present which you therein purport making to the Company of your collection of Oriental manuscripts, and to assure you of the high sense which they entertain of your obliging attention. The Court propose to set apart a portion of their library for the acception of these valuable manuscripts and to distinguish it by the name of the Colebrooke Collection.’ (Letter from the Court of Directors of the East India Company to Colebrooke, 24 April 1819. British Library, IOR/E/255, f 240).

The above is an extract from a letter that was sent to Henry Thomas Colebrooke (1765-1837) by the East India Company’s Court of Directors in London, on 24 April 1819. Four years previously, Colebrooke had returned to Britain after thirty-two years in India. His career had been an impressive one, beginning on the lower rungs of the Company’s civil service and rising up eventually to become a member of the supreme council of the Government of Bengal.

However, what Colebrooke is most remembered for today is his scholarship. While in India, he held the position of professor of Sanskrit at the College of Fort William,  founded by the EIC in Calcutta in 1800. And for the nine years prior to his departure in 1815 he was the president of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, the pre-eminent forum for Europeans pursuing research into any branch of enquiry relating to India. Later, in 1823, he would found the Royal Asiatic Society in London, in an attempt to replicate something of that interest in Britain.

Colebrooke’s most tangible legacy is his collection of over two thousand Sanskrit manuscripts, which he brought back with him from India and donated to the EIC’s Library (later renamed the India Office Library, and now part of the British Library). The ‘Colebrooke Collection’ covers a wide range of subjects, including religion, philosophy, law, grammar, poetry, mathematics, astronomy, and botany, and has been a vital resource for students in Britain and beyond.

A page from the Mahabharata, one of the manuscripts in the Colebrooke Collection. British Library, IO San 1771.

But what is the story behind the formation of this important collection? In particular, how did Colebrooke come to be in India? What influenced his interests and choices as he formed his collection? And how did he find and acquire the manuscripts themselves? These questions will be examined in a series of blog posts, of which this first post, on the Colebrooke Family and the East India Company, will provide some background to Colebrooke’s arrival in India.

Even before Henry Thomas set off for Asia, the Colebrooke family had become closely associated with the East India Company. His father, Sir George Colebrooke (1729-1809), was a wealthy and prominent banker, and made investments in EIC shares. In 1764, he became one of the Company’s proprietors, the elite group of shareholders who owned enough stock to qualify for a vote to elect the members of the Court of Directors. These members, who met in the Company’s headquarters in London, were responsible for overseeing all of its operations. Sir George himself became a member in 1767, and served three terms as chairman in 1769, 1770, and 1772.

As chairman, Sir George defended the EIC against criticism from within Britain and attempts to introduce greater government control over its activities. This criticism stemmed from the growing power of the Company in India, where it had been fighting wars, making deals with local rulers, and taking control of areas of territory. Many in Britain believed the EIC had gone beyond the bounds of acceptable activity for a trading organisation, and were concerned by reports of corruption and abuse of power. Sir George successfully resisted calls for greater government control. However, during his third term as president, the Company experienced a major financial crisis and had to appeal to the government for relief, which was damaging for Sir George’s reputation. But worse was to come, as his own financial affairs rapidly deteriorated, leading ultimately to bankruptcy.

Henry's father Sir George Colebrooke was a prominent figure in British public life, and as the EIC foundered under his leadership he was the subject of attacks in the press. This cartoon is from an edition of the Oxford Magazine published in 1773. Sir George is depicted in the centre, kneeling before Lord North, the Prime Minister, while handing him a bag of money and pleading ‘Save us my Lord or we perish.’  British Museum, 1868,0808.10039. © The Trustees of the British Museum

It was in this context that Henry Thomas, along with his elder brother, Edward (1761-1838), set out for Asia to work for the East India Company. For someone who had occupied positions of considerable status, Sir George would have envisaged a more elevated future for his sons than a career in India. But in the family’s reduced situation, the EIC offered a potential path to restoring their fortunes. Opportunities were highly sought after, but their father’s previous service doubtless counted in the sons’ favour, and both obtained positions as writers, that is, administrators, in India.

Henry Thomas Colebrooke arrived in India in 1783. In the wake of its crisis ten years previously, the EIC had undergone a number of reforms, with an emphasis on improving the standards of its administration. Colebrooke had therefore arrived at a time of great change for the Company. Though his father’s reputation and the family’s situation had been greatly damaged, he had nevertheless been granted an opening in EIC employment. There was a need for competent administrators who were willing to familiarise themselves with local conditions and devise ways for the EIC to transform itself into a responsible government. This is the context in which Colebrooke embarked upon his career in the Company’s service.

The second blog post in this series on the provenance of the Colebrooke Collection will be on Colebrooke’s manuscripts on Hindu law.

Works Consulted
Buchan, P. Bruce, ‘The East India Company 1749-1800: The Evolution of a Territorial Strategy and the Changing Role of the Directors’, Business and Economic History, 23:1 (1994).
Rocher, Rosanne and Rocher, Ludo, The Making of Western Indology: Henry Thomas Colebrooke and the East India Company (London: Routledge, 2012).
Letter from the Court of Directors of the East India Company to H. T. Colebrooke, 24 April 1819. British Library, IOR/E/255, f 240.

David Woodbridge, Provenance Researcher Sanskrit Collections (REAP pilot project 2023-2025)

 

Historical postcards in most cases are a simple reminder of commercial interests from a certain time or place, however when a collection is historically coherent, what can be identified is underlying propaganda, and mass commercial influence of a controversial period. A collection of over 500 mass-produced Japanese postcards (British Library, Photo 1418), grapples with these themes, presenting an eerie reminder of what a unified Korea under imperial Japan looked like. This collection was purchased by The British Library in 2018.

In 1910, after decades of political intervention, imperial Japan took control of the Korean Peninsula, a rule that would last until 1945. The annexation of Korea meant that for 35 years, the country would exist under Japanese administration by the name “Chosen” the Japanese version of the Korean term “Joseon”. The collapse of the Japanese Empire following WW2 led to the imminent Korean War dividing the landmass into what we now know as North Korea and South Korea. 

A postcard envelope advertising ‘Romantic Chosen’, British Library, Photo 1418(296)   

Produced by the Government Railways of Chosen, these commercial postcards would have been produced to encourage tourism; heritage sites Korea were advertised as top tourist destinations for Japanese travellers and settlers. The captions were written on the face of the images in both Japanese as well as in English, which is suggestive of production for a wider market. Today, they do much to reveal the history, landscape and architectural beauty of the peninsula before the Korean war and post-war modernization. However, commercially its layers of propaganda hint at the colonial policy and imperialist views of ethnic hierarchy of the Japanese Empire. 

'The view of the Emperor Ki Tsze's [Kija] Mausoleum, which tells us three thousand year’s history, Heijo [Pyongyang]'. British Library, Photo 1418(51)  

Take for example, the postcard above, that shows a mausoleum in Pyongyang commemorating the Chinese legend of Jizi, known as Kija in Korea. The caption reads ‘The view of the Emperor Ki Tsze's [Kija] Mausoleum, which tells us three thousand year’s history, Heijo [Pyongyang]’. The legend tells the story of how Shang Sage Jizi who belonged to the Shang dynastic family, fled to the Korean Peninsula, where he founded modern day Pyongyang. Essentially, the postcard was designed to promote a significant Korean site to the Japanese public including those who settled in Korea. The underlying message, however, enforces a notion that even Pyongyang was not founded by an “ethnic Korean” but by an outsider, much like the imperial Japanese. Making these connections is a deliberate display of controlling historical narrative through the tourist marketplace of Japan, to influence Japanese people and their understanding of Korean heritage. 

What is even more fascinating, is the role these postcards play when understanding the representation of Korean heritage and history over time. This particular monument fed a Japanese narrative of Korean citizens lacking claim to their heritage - today however, the story of Kija threatens the ideological beliefs of the current North Korean Administration. The importance of Kija to ethnic Koreans dates to the 14th century, and in 1570 King Seonjo of Korea instructed it to be mandatory that all those passing the mausoleum of Kija should dismount their horses to pay respect. Now however, Kija’s existence is disputed in North Korea, the story is deemed a glorified fabrication developed by the Japanese Empire and so the mausoleum is purposely excluded from the list of North Korean National Treasures. The site was allegedly excavated in the 1960’s, but records of its condition since then are unclear, and it is highly likely that the mausoleum has been demolished. 

Golden Buddha statue in Daeungjeong Pavillion in Bulguksa Temple, Gyeongju, South Korea, British Library, Photo 1418(233)   

On the brighter side of these picturesque postcards, they collectively provide us with the opportunity to study the sceneries of landscapes, Buddhist temples, legendary shrines and royal tombs in South Korea. There are also a series of street scenes under Japanese occupation in some of South Korea’s now major metropolitan cities such as Daegu (Taikyu) and Busan (Fusan).  

‘Motomachi Street with a row of shops, Taikyu [Daegu]’, British Library, Photo 1418(114)

For those interested in the historic sites of North Korea, these postcards present the rare angles of landmarks such as Chilsong Gate and Moran Hill which have drastically changed in the present DPRK. 

‘The full view of Daido Gate (Taedongmun Gate), the model building built 500 hundred years ago at Heijo (Pyongyang)’, British Library, Photo 1418(20)

Holistically, the collection exists as a coherent resource that can be consulted when studying the cultural propaganda that operated under Japanese colonial rule as well as researching the monuments and architecture of a unified Korea. Housed in the British Library Visual Arts Collection, these postcards are currently undergoing cataloging and once completed will be available for readers to request in the Print Room. 

Prints, drawings and photographs held in the Visual Arts collection can be consulted in the Print Room, located inside the Asia and Africa Reading Room. The Print Room is open by appointment on weekday mornings from 10-12.30. For appointment requests and for any questions regarding this collection, please email [email protected]. 

 

Simran Bance, Print Room Coordinator and Cataloguer

 

Further Reading:  

Uchida, Jun, Brokers of Empire: Japanese Settler Colonialism in Korea, 1876-1945, (2011) 

Todd, A. Henry, Assimilating Seoul: Japanese rule and the politics of public space in colonial Korea, 1910 –1945 (2014) 

Hong Yung Lee, Clark W. Sorensen, Yong-Chool Ha, Colonial Rule and Social Change in Korea 1910-1945 (2013) 

Catalogue of Photographs from The British Library, The National Archives 

The start of Genesis in the Armenian Bible donated by Baroness Zouche. (Copied by Yovhannēs Lehts'i, 1648). (Or 8833, f 3r)

In the run-up to Easter, we had a little surprise. By “we” I mean my family, not the Library. Late in March, two pigeons showed up to scope out our flower box. Then they brought twigs. Then they built a nest. Finally, one Monday, coming back from a weekend away, we noticed two unattended white eggs. One of the adults soon returned and stayed put. Pigeons take turns incubating their eggs, which means that one of the two parents was always there eyeing us suspiciously. Eventually, the eggs hatched and now two beautiful little pigeons (or squabs, to use the technical term) have their breakfast and dinner along with us – separated, naturally, by several layers of glass.

Eggs are, of course, associated with Easter. In this blog, however, I’m going to look at what comes after the egg: the bird. In the last week and a half of Lent, as our little soon-to-be-feather friends grew, I saw birds everywhere I looked. Some were even in the manuscripts.

The beginning of readings for the Saturday of Light, starting a midnight on Good Friday. (Nitria, Egypt. 1274 CE) (Add MS 5997, f 260r)

The first fowl incident came while helping a researcher in Canada locate a passage relating to the Saturday of Light (سبت النور) or Holy Saturday in Add MS 5997, a Bohairic Copto-Arabic Lectionary completed in 1274 CE. A lectionary is a collection of readings from Scripture tied to specific dates and events throughout the year. The practice isn’t unique to Christianity; Jews also make use of Parashat ha-Shavua (פָּרָשַׁת הַשָּׁבוּעַ), or weekly readings from the Torah, although these are not compiled into a separate book. As I learned recently, Copts have a variety of different lectionaries. Some might be for the whole year, others for Lent. Add MS 5997 is one intended just for the Easter period (كتاب البصخة المقدسة), containing explanations at the start of each selection informing readers when the passages should be read and where they come from.

A detail of the triple arch beginning the text for the Saturday of Light and the fowl motif on the right. (Nitria, Egypt. 1274 CE) (Add MS 5997, f 260r)

Lo and behold, at the bottom of folio 260r is the start of the Reading for the beginning Holy Saturday and with it, a long-necked bird with a black head and red comb, looking shyly at the margin above. This feathered friend caught my eye – once I had confirmed that I had the passage I need – and so too did dozen of their mates and siblings scattered across the manuscript. As Maria Cramer explains, birds and indeed animals of various types - dogs and gazelles among them - have featured in Coptic manuscripts from the first millennium onwards. And this continues on a long tradition from Ancient Egyptian artwork, which is itself heavily imbued with imagery from the animal kingdom. 

While the presence of birds was a welcome surprise – especially given our recent guests – it also rang a bell. Fowl, of course, feature in manuscripts in many other cultures. Whether in margins and letters, or as images for literary or historical accounts, which illustrator or illuminator didn’t love birds? But birds also play a special role in manuscripts from a nation in communion with the Copts: Armenian ones. Here, the use of birds to form capital letters is so common as to have its own name, t’rch’nagir (թռչնագիր), or bird-letter.

Where better to see the tradition than in one of the most stunning examples of this art, the Armenian Old and New Testaments copied in 1646 CE and donated to the Library by Darea Curzon, the 16^th Baroness Zouche (Or 8833)? While the 13^th-century Copto-Arabic Easter Lectionary features feathery friends with personality, the Armenian masterpiece brings them to us in their finery. The most impressing example, by far, is the start of Genesis. Here, a glorious frontispiece features the Virgin Mary with Baby Jesus, the four Apostles (including John with his associated eagle), and four elegant gold-and-navy peacocks. But below this panoply of visual sensations is the first word of the Old Testament, featuring an angel killing a dragon as the letter ini (Ի), followed by the rest of the word skězpanē (Սկըզբանէ; in the beginning) with each letter spelled out by intricate, lavish birds.

The Classical Armenian word for "beginning" fashioned from birds. (Copied by Yovhannēs Lehts'i, 1648). (Or 8833, f 3r)

Father Vrej Nersessian, our former Lead Curator of the Christian Orient, provided a detailed explanation of the significance of various birds. In doing so, he relies on the analysis conducted by Catholicos Nersēs IV the Gracious: “The Bible has for Nersēs Šnorhali a paradigmatic value. It traces the parameters within which all history is to be understood.” As such, it should not be a surprise that the birds appearing in Biblical manuscript illustration and illumination are themselves steeped in meaning. And, when it comes to the decoration of the Canon Tables, which provide internal correspondences between the four Apostles’ accounts about Jesus’ life, as well as those that are unique: “Through the visual pleasures of the Canon Tables one is supposed to ascend to the spiritual enjoyment of the Gospels themselves.” So then, to what heights are these winged friends carrying us? 

Canon Tables from the Armenian Bible donated by Baroness Zouche. (Copied by Yovhannēs Lehts'i, 1648). (Or 8833, ff 462r and 466 r) 

The discussion here is quite complicated, but to summarize: the eagle represents Christ, although it can also be the sign of the Apostle John; the cock is the advent of Christ; doves are the gift of the Holy Spirit; partridges are the sex workers who feature in Jesus’ story; fishing birds are symbols of the Apostles; and peacocks are the “purity of angelic spirits.” Monkeys and lions, Father Vrej informs us, are later additions coming from Western European sources.

A detail of a page of the Gospels showing a marginal avian decoration. (Copied by Yovhannēs Lehts'i, 1648). (Or 8833, f 699r)

Given this rich collection of different symbols and allusions, it should be no surprise that we find peacocks, roosters and, yes, even monkeys and lions, in the Canon Table menagerie. And, of course, other birds embellishing the margins. These are harder to identify, but it might just be that I’m not much of a birder.

The frontispiece of the Gospel of John featuring the Apostle below two birds. (Monastery of Yaspisunkal, Arjish, now Erciş, Türkiye. 1281 CE) (Or 2679, f 222v). 

Or 8833 is a high point of illustration and illumination. But birds and their various stylizations can be found in other manuscripts as well, sometimes less elegant or intricate, but still eye-catching in their own way. The two Bible manuscripts Or 2679 and Or 2680, both acquired from Reverend S. Baronian in 1883, provide us with a few interesting examples. The former contains a delightful frontispiece to the Gospel of John where the Apostle, presumably seated with pen and paper in hand, is under two gormless long-tailed birds. Throughout the manuscript, these cartoonish, elongated fowl can be found in the margins of pages, their tail feathers and crowns so crenellated they look almost like ferns.

The start of the Gospel of Matthew with "harpies" and human-as-letter. (Copied by Astuadzatur, 1317 CE) (Or 2780, f 10r)

In many ways, however, the birds – whatever their species – quickly fade from memory as soon as you encounter another inhabitant of the pages of both Or 2679 and Or 2680. These are fantastical creatures that marry the body of a bird and the head of a man, which Conybeare identifies as harpies. I think this is likely an unfair assumption. In the latter manuscript, an early 13^th-century copy of the Bible, two sit in the frontispiece above the start of the Gospel of Matthew, their bobs immaculate, looking suspiciously at the gutter and margin. In Or 2679, by contrast, the bird’s crown is never unequivocally converted from feathers to metalwork, providing a delightful ambiguity between what is human and what belongs to our flying friends. As with the full birds, the half-man, half-bird creatures in Or 2679 have expressions that often dance between stupor and wonder, leaving this birdwatching newbie to ponder their meaning vis-à-vis the Biblical text.

A detail of marginal decoration featuring a half-man, half-bird creature. (Monastery of Yaspisunkal, Arjish, now Erciş, Türkiye. 1281 CE) (Or 2679, f 222v). 

This Easter season, whether you celebrate or not, I hope that this blog has brought a little bit of curiosity about our feathered neighbours as well as the rich art found of Armenian and Coptic manuscripts. While you bite into your creme egg, take a moment to ponder the wonders of avian world and how it inspired artists and creators for millennium.

Dr. Michael Erdman, Head, Middle East and Central Asia 🐦

I’d like to thank Émile Tadros for his patience in guiding me through Add MS 5997, and to the Coptic clergy from the Diocese of London for sharing their accumulated wisdom and experience.

Works consulted

Conybeare, Frederick Cornwallis, A catalogue of the Armenian manuscripts in the British Museum (London: Trustees of the British Museum, 1913).

Cramer, Maria, Koptische Buchmalerei: Illuminationen in Manuskripten des christlich-koptischen Ägypten vom 4. bis 19. Jahrhundert (Recklinghausen: A. Bongers, 1964).

Cramer, Maria, 'Studien zu koptischen Pascha-Büchern: Der Ritus der Karwoche in der koptischen Kirche,' Oriens Christianus (September 1963), Vol. 47, pp. 118-128.

Crum, Walter Ewing, Catalogue of the Coptic Manuscripts in the British Museum (London: Trustees of the British Museum, 1905).

Nersessian, Vrej, A catalogue of the Armenian manuscripts in the British Library acquired since the year 1913 and of collections in other libraries in the United Kingdom (London: The British Library, 2012).

The frontispiece of the first sub' Sultan Baybars' Qur'an (Ibn al-Waḥīd, Cairo, 705 AH/1304-05 CE). (Add MS 22406 f 2v)

Why don’t you know where this manuscript came from?!? Even if the words don’t exit the lips of some researchers, you can occasionally feel them burning into your soul, transmitted by the frustrated gaze of an inquirer hungry to know who else might have read a book, benefitted from its wisdom, admired its beauty. While we would all love to have such information, sadly, it’s rarely at our fingertips. Once upon a time, record-keeping did not touch on provenance, meaning that creating a fuller picture of the origin of some manuscripts in our holdings requires research elsewhere. Such is the case for a few of our best-known works, the seven volumes of the Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an among them.

The Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an, copied in 704-05 AH (1304-06 CE) by Ibn al-Waḥīd for Baybars Jashankir, has been expertly described by our former Head of Middle East and Central Asia, Dr. Colin Baker, most recently in a post on the Asian and African Studies blog. While the digitized version of the Qur’an will not be accessible through the links he provided because of the cyber attack we suffered in October 2023, you can still view them on Archive.org. Information abounds about the art historical aspects of the work, but very little is known about how it ended up in the British Museum’s collection. A brief note at the back of the volume states that it was purchased from the book dealer T & W Boone on 12 June 1858, but that’s about it.

In May 2024, I had the great opportunity to meet Dr. Noha Abou-Khatwa of the American University in Cairo. She visited the Library to view the asbā’ themselves just after we re-opened access to restricted manuscripts. She shared some of her deep knowledge about the manuscript with me, which is why I returned to her in December to see if she’d learned anything more about the Qur’an’s history. She said that she presumed it had remained in its intended home, the Al-Ḥākim Mosque (مسجد الحاكم), for most of its life. She also pointed me to a recent chapter by Dr. Alison Ohta that mentions an inscription in Add MS 22412, the seventh sub’. (Ohta 2023, page 144 note 45) Ohta was wrong about the location (it’s in Add MS 22406, the first sub’), but right about the content. The brief pencil note says that the manuscript was “stated to have been brought from Cairo by an English Clergyman.” The signature beside it isn’t legible, so I was left stumped.

A letter from Reverend Benjamin Webb to Mountstuart Elphinstone. (Benjamin Webb, Brasted Rectory, 1 February 1854.) (MSS EUR F88/168/20 f 48r)

But I have options other researchers don’t. Namely, I can go into our storage basements, where I decided to see if there were Arabic manuscripts purchased from a named individual immediately around the Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an. I had some luck when I found, almost immediately before the first sub’, nine Arabic and Persian volumes acquired from Rev. Benjamin Webb on 8 May 1858. Webb – described as a “Clergyman” on Wikipedia – was well-connected and active as an academic, but I could find no record of his ever having been to Egypt. When I called up some of his letters held in the India Office Records, I discovered that in 1854, when his father-in-law William Hodge Mill died, Webb was left to sort out his affairs. Mill was the first Principal of Bishop’s College in Kolkata and his library included some 70-odd “Arabic + Persian MSS.” (MSS EUR/F88/168 f. 48r) Here, I thought, was a breakthrough: maybe Mill bought the Qur’an in Egypt on his way back from India?

The answer might lay in Webb’s journals. So off I went to the Bodleian, in Oxford, to consult these. I have often thought myself clever for making personal notes in Turkish or Arabic. Now that I have tortured myself going through Webb’s half-English, half-Latin notes about his daily schedule, I will never do that again. These notebooks had little to offer me, except the brief remark that Webb visited the British Museum on 29 April 1858 to show some of his manuscripts to Sir Frederic Madden, a famed English paleographer and Keeper of Manuscripts at the BM between 1837 and 1866. (Bodleian MS Eng Misc.e.412, f 18r) Madden’s journal was also at the Bodleian, so I placed an order, went for lunch, and came back an hour and a half later with little hope I’d find something useful.

I was wrong. Where Webb was terse and bilingual, Madden was expansive (and only wrote in English). He didn’t just note absolutely everything, he also imposed a system of internal references between the daily entries in his journal. That’s how I found the entry from May 1858 in which he states that “Boone […?] a volume of a magnificent Koran written A.D. 1306 in letters of gold, in large folio. It is said to belong to a clergyman who purchased it at Cairo. I should much like to buy it at a moderate price.” (Bodleian MS Eng Hist.c.171, p. 195) Just above the word “Cairo” is a note to see page 300, referring to 24 August 1858. In the main text, Madden writes: “Inquired respecting the fine Coran bought of him + was now told that it belonged to an artist, whose name was not known, but that a clerk of Christie’s named Wood had negotiated for him. I shall [request?] more information when Mr. B the […?] returns.*” The asterisk leads us to the bottom of the page, where Madden adds: “It did not belong to an artist, but the Rev. Francis Frith, who purchased it a ruined mosque in Egypt, it is believed, in Cairo. He is now gone to the White Nile.” (Bodleian MS Eng Hist.c.171, p. 300; emphasis Madden’s) Eureka! We have a name!

A self-portrait of Francis Frith in Ottoman costume. (Francis Frith, printed by Paul Pretsch, 1857).
© Public Domain, provided by the Albertina Museum through Europeana.

But now the question is: just who was this Francis Frith? If you’ve followed the link before continuing with my story, you’ll see that he was no Man of the Cloth. In fact, Francis or Frances Junior was born on 7 October 1822 in Chesterfield, Derbyshire, and was an exceptionally successful photographer and businessman. His fame came from the mission he and his wife Mary Ann Rosling set for themselves in 1860: to photograph every town and village in Great Britain. This is largely the reason why Frith’s work can be found in institutions such as the National Portrait Gallery, likely linked in the metadata to the company he founded, Francis Frith & Co. Frith died in 1898, having left his mark on British photography and photographic publishing. The company he founded only closed in 1971, its archive eventually being bought, preserved, and scanned, to become the Francis Frith Collection. Francis’ impact has also been immortalized as part of the BBC documentary Britain’s First Photo Album .

Wait a minute – what about Egypt? Rewind to the mid-1850s, when Frith was just getting on his feet as a photographer. In 1856, the bachelor Frith set out for Egypt and West Asia, making three trips that covered Egypt, Nubia, Ethiopia, Palestine, Lebanon and Syria. His photographs of these travels are clearly identified as being part of the Orientalist movement. Many of them cemented the visual conceptualization – now supposedly made factual through the science of photography – of a decadent, languid, declining Orient. He seems to have been keen to photograph ruins as well as some of the natural wonders of the region, with a heavy dose of sites linked to Biblical narratives. This last part should not be a surprise, as Frith became a Quaker minister (is this what “Reverand Francis Frith” meant?) of a rather unorthodox sort. The first mention of his ministry, according to the Friends’ Quarterly Examiner, is 1872, after which he got into a spot of trouble with the publication of the controversial pamphlet A Reasonable Faith.

"Cairo from the East," one of Frith's photos of the Egyptian capital. 
© Public Domain, provided by the Rijksmuseum through Europeana.

Frith, according to Caroline Williams, was an avid reader of published works about Egypt in the early 1850s and particularly motivated by the Orientalist paintings of David Roberts. He did, however, believe he could do better by bringing realistic photographic representations of Egypt back to English viewers. And so, between September 1856 and June 1857, and again between November 1857 and May 1858, he travelled across Egypt, Nubia, Palestine and Syria. He did a third trip in late 1859-1860, this time going down the Nile to Ethiopia and then back up again through Sinai into Gaza. Williams provides a masterful explanation of the Frith’s importance for Orientalist photography and the challenges he faced in enacting it given the technology at his disposal and the specificities of Egyptian buildings and scenery. But perhaps we’ve gone too far. What about the manuscripts?

The answer lies in a beautiful publication of the Frith Foundation marrying Frith’s own photographs and texts, with those of his contemporaries editors Sophia Lane Poole and her son Reginald Poole, and Egyptologist Richard Lunn, who provided his own modern photographs of Egypt. Here, on pages 40-41, as if hiding in plain sight, comes the clearest statement yet about Frith’s initial transaction for Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an:

“I spent a summer in Cairo, and its neighbourhood… spent intervals of six weeks, in alternate fits of storm and calm, bargaining with a mysterious priest who visited me by night, and at length accepted one sixth part of what he first asked, for a splendid, illuminated copy of the Koran, seven hundred years old, in seven huge volumes, written in gold letters an inch high (now in the British Museum; perhaps the finest copy in Europe).” (Lunn 2005, pp. 40-41)

There can be no doubt that this was, and is, Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an. We therefore know, given the description, that Frith likely acquired it in 1857.

"The Mosque of El-Hakim" as found in the Lane and Poole's mammoth collection of Frith photographs taken across North-East Africa and West Asia. (Lane and Poole, Cairo, Sinai, Jerusalem and the Pyramids of Egypt) (London: James S. Virtue, 1860). 

And the priest? We now have so many versions of who bought what where from whom as to make the truth seem ever elusive. I think Frith’s account is possible, but excessively improbable. To paraphrase Noir fiction: of all the Europeans in all the tents in Cairo, he had to pick Frith? Surely, Umm al-Dunya had no shortage of art-hungry, rich Europeans who might pay more than a 35-year old, relatively novice photographer. To be serious, however, let’s return to Abou-Khatwa’s supposition that the Qur’an remained in the Mosque of al-Ḥākim. We know that Frith was at the Mosque in 1857 because Sophia Lane Poole and Reginald Poole’s Cairo, Sinai, Jerusalem, and the pyramids of Egypt : a series of sixty photographic views, published in 1860, contains not one but two of Frith’s photographs of the mosque. And Frith’s Egypt and Palestine Photographed and Described by Francis Frith contains one of these views of the Mosque, along with the same text found in Lane and Poole’s publication. I think it most likely that, if the manuscript was indeed kept there, Frith began his negotiations at the Mosque and they continued until he successfully acquired the seven volumes. The story of the furtive visits might be based on some nugget of truth, but I suspect that it was intended as an embellishment to increase the romanticism of Frith’s account, a surefire way to improve the appeal of any Orientalist text.

But who was this mysterious priest, or, more appropriately, counterparty? How did they have access to the manuscript and why were they willing to sell it at a bargain price? The answers to these questions, sadly, aren’t found in any of the sources I’ve mentioned here. They likely lie elsewhere, either in Frith’s personal papers, possibly at the Francis Frith Collection, or in Cairo, at the Mosque itself. Perhaps this short foray into the provenance of the Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an will spur some other curious soul to follow up on those threads.

Dr. Michael Erdman, Head, Middle East and Central Asia

I would like to extend my sincere thanks to Dr. Noha Abou-Khatwa for her guidance and immense knowledge on the Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an and all matters Mamluk.

Works Consulted

Frith, Francis, Egypt and Palestine photographed and described (London: James S. Virtue, 1858-59).

Lane Poole, Sophia and Poole, Reginald, Egypt, Sinai and Jerusalem: a series of twenty photographic views by Francis Frith with descriptions by Mrs. Poole and Reginald Stuart Poole (London: James S. Virtue, 1860).

Lunn, Richard, Francis Frith’s Egypt and the Holyland: The Pioneering Photographic Expeditions to the Middle East (London: The Francis Frith Collection, 2005).

Madden, Frederick. Journal, 1858. Bodleian Library, MS. Eng. hist. c. 171.

Ohta, Alison Aplin, ‘Mamluk Qurʾans: Splendor and Opulence of the Islamic Book,’ in Rettig, Simon and Sana Mirza (ed.), The word illuminated: form and function of Qur'anic manuscripts from the seventh to seventeenth centuries (Washington D.C.: The Smithsonian Scholarly Press, 2023), pp. 123-146.

Webb, Benjamin. Journal, 1858. MS. Eng. misc. e. 412.

Webb, Benjamin, Letter from Reverend Benjamin Webb at Brasted Rectory, to Mountstuart Elphinstone , 1 February 1854. British Library, Mss Eur F88/168/20.

Williams, Caroline, ‘A Nineteenth-Century Photographer: Francis Frith’ in Janet Starkey and Paul Starkey (ed.), Travellers in Egypt (London: I.B. Tauris, 1998), pp. 168-178.

Frederick S. Harrop was one of the first foreign art teachers hired by the Thai government in the early twentieth century. He lived in Bangkok from 1913-30 and helped to reform Thai art education and graphic design in his role as Art Master, and later Headmaster, of Poh-Chang School of Art and Crafts, the first modern art school in Thailand. It was founded in 1913 by King Vajiravudh (Rama VI), who – like many other Thai royals - received his education in the UK and continued the modernisation efforts of his father, King Chulalongkorn (Rama V). When Harrop arrived in Bangkok, he must have been fascinated by the richness of colours and brilliant light of the tropics. He immediately took great interest in traditional Thai art, design and decorative styles and blended these with Western techniques. His preferred subjects were the traditional architecture of Thai temples, people and street scenes, as well as boats and river views.

Left: Wat Benchamabophit, Bangkok, watercolour, signed F. S. Harrop, c. 1925. British Library, FSHA 1165. Right: Doorway, Wat Pho, Bangkok, pencil, pen and ink on paper, signed F. S. Harrop, c.1920. British Library, FSHA 1338. ©William R. Harrop

Frederick Samuel Harrop, born on 27 March 1887 in Batsford, Stoke-on-Trent, started his career as an apprentice to Grimwades pottery manufacturers in Stoke-on-Trent. Aged 17 he was attending evening classes at Stoke School of Art, and two years later he was awarded an Applied Arts Scholarship to study at Hanley Municipal School of Art, Science and Technology. In 1909 he won a scholarship to the Royal College of Art in London. Harrop developed his skills as a modeller draughtsman and designer through researching in the British Museum and the V&A, with its close relationship to the RCA. He explored various aspects of art education and took a Teacher’s Training course at the RCA. Study trips took him to the Netherlands, where he spent two months working with three other students of the RCA at the Palace of Peace in The Hague designing wall tiling that was fired in Delft.

F.S. Harrop (front row, 5th from right) with staff and students in front of Poh-Chang School, c. 1920. British Library, B 24.

In 1913, Harrop left the RCA without the full qualification certificate in order to take up a position as Assistant Art Teacher in Bangkok, and soon he rose to the position of Art Master at the School of Arts and Crafts (now known as Poh-Chang Academy of Arts, Rajamangala University of Technology Rattanakosin). In this role, he introduced Thai students to Western art forms and techniques, such as watercolour sketching and painting, drawing, printing, book design, graphic and letterform design, while at the same time adopting traditional Thai art styles and techniques in his own works. In turn, his students often blended European and Thai art styles in their works.

Life study, pencil and watercolour on paper, signed F. S. Harrop, 1924. British Library, FSHA 1346. ©William R. Harrop

In 1917 Harrop married Edith Florence Keyes in Singapore and they had two sons, Roger born in Bangkok in 1918 and James born during a home visit to England in 1920. Edith Harrop produced water colours herself, and both were active members of the expatriate community in Bangkok.
From 1921 on Harrop was also Organising Art Master to the Ministry of Public Instruction in Bangkok, where his duties included the training of drawing teachers for schools under the Ministry. In the School of Arts and Crafts, Harrop initiated and ran classes in applied design for metal and woodworkers, process reproduction (including line, half-tone and three-colour work), lettering, woodcut and lino-block printing, and modelling. He became Headmaster of the School of Arts and Crafts in 1922, and in the following years more courses were added, including photography, mother-of-pearl inlay, and gold-on-lacquer design.

Designs for posters by F. S. Harrop, c.1920, pencil, pen and ink on paper. Left: British Library, FSHA1181; right: British Library, FSHA1184. ©William R. Harrop

Harrop organised exhibitions at local, national and international levels, including a display and exhibition book for the planned Siamese Kingdom Exhibition 1926, which was cancelled due to King Vajiravudh’s death the previous year. In 1930 the family moved back to London where Harrop found teaching appointments with Willesden Polytechnic, the Paddington Art Institute and the Hammersmith School of Building and Arts and Craft. After his retirement in 1952, he launched a late career as a master studio potter that lasted until his death on 26 February 1969. Even in his later pottery works traces of Asian influences and Thai motifs intermingle with traditional English and Mediterranean motifs.

Plates produced for an exhibition book, edited by F. S. Harrop, on the occasion of the planned Siamese Kingdom Exhibition 1926. British Library, FSHA 0704.

A particularly strong sense of hybridity is visible in the commercial work Harrop produced during his time in Bangkok. As an established artist he was approached for various advertising commissions and for designing book covers, specifically for King Vajiravudh’s own publications. Harrop produced designs inspired by traditional Thai motifs, overlaid with an RCA-trained sense of layout, colouring and lettering. Harrop signed hand-drawn designs for printed works and art prints with “F.S. Harrop”, “F. Harrop”, “Harrop”, “FSH”, “FH”, “แฮรัป” (Haerap), “ฮ” (H), as well as “เพาะช่าง” (Pho-Chang) and “พ.ช.” (Pho. Cho., short for Pho-Chang). The latter two, if used as stand-alone signatures (not in combination with Harrop’s other signatures) may have been used for collaborative works with colleagues that involved larger passages of Thai and/or Chinese text, for commercial works that were formally ordered from the School of Arts and Crafts, or prints of photographs by other artists, e.g. as book illustrations.

Left: Front cover design for a magazine “Asia” with blank fields for date and price, c.1920. British Library, FSHA1198; right: front cover design for an exhibition catalogue of the Siam Art Club, c.1920. British Library, FSHA1217. ©William R. Harrop

Among the earlier commercial print designs by Frederick S. Harrop are programmes for events and theatre performances. Some of these are completely in the English language, others completely in Thai, but there are also bilingual Thai and English programmes, depending on which audiences were expected for such events.

Left: Programme front cover for a “Miniature Naval Engagement” at Dusit Park, 1917, print on paper. British Library, GMS310; right: Programme cover for “The Willow Pattern”, an operetta on 21st February 1920 in aid of the Bangkok Nursing Home, print on paper. British Library, FSHA0740. ©William R. Harrop

A significant part of Harrop’s print collection consists of commercial poster designs and printed posters which were commissioned by organisations and enterprises to advertise their products and services. Though often undated, they appear to have been created mainly from 1920 onwards, showing a significant development in Harrop’s artistic and linguistic approach. The earlier designs for programmes were mostly executed in a Western style, possibly because audiences were primarily members of the expatriate community and the Thai elite. The posters, however, were meant to attract the attention of wider, general audiences, and Harrop included traditional Thai patterns as well as bilingual or even trilingual text passages, combining English, Thai and Chinese texts.

Examples of Harrop’s poster designs. Left: design for Solar Eclipse event, dated 9 May 1929. British Library, FSHA1206; right: Poster design for the Red Cross with text in Thai and Chinese, first proof dated B.E. 2568 (1925). British Library, FSHA 1193. ©William R. Harrop

Harrop produced numerous cover designs for a variety of publications, especially books written and translated by King Vajiravudh who was keen to introduce modern, creative book designs of high quality that would help popularise reading as a leisure activity as well as book collecting. Harrop understood that book design had to be adapted to the needs of the emerging Thai book market as more books were produced in the Thai language. Front covers with colourful, extra-ordinary designs and intricate patterns that appealed to the Thai taste aimed to give potential readers an idea of the contents of books, but also to emphasize the high quality of the books and the status of the authors and publishing agencies. Harrop’s book designs often included text, either in one language or multiple languages. By 1922 he had developed a Thai letterform that could be seen as his “signature” letterform as it was used for books featuring his book cover designs, as well as plates and illustrations in books.

Left: Front cover design for “Lilit nitthra chakhrit” by King Chulalongkorn. British Library, FSHA 1722; right: printed front cover of the book “Lilit nitthra chakhrit”, published in 1922. British Library, Siam.200. ©William R. Harrop

Among Harrop’s most impressive commercial designs are some for business calendars that were popular annual gifts for customers. It was a smart way to make business brands visible to customers throughout the year, and lucky symbols or signs of the Thai zodiac were integrated. Harrop created calendars for Buddhist and Chinese calendar systems. The most remarkable designs are Harrop’s Buddhist calendars printed on silk. There are four altogether in the Harrop collection now held in the British Library, each of them combining intricate decorative Thai patterns, stunning letterform designs, painted scenes depicting Buddhist deities, animals of the zodiac, and additional images chosen by the patrons who commissioned the calendars.

Left: Printed calendar on silk for the year B.E. 2465 (1922) and detail on the right. British Library Or 17132/2. ©William R. Harrop

Harrop’s notes, invitations, photographs and handwritten dedications in book gifts indicate that he had contacts with King Vajiravudh (Rama VI), Prince Chakrabongse, Prince Damrong Rajanubhab as well as other European professionals who worked for the Siamese government: French archaeologist and historian George Cœdès (Chief Librarian of the National Library of Thailand), Welsh linguist Herbert Stanley O’Neill (Lecturer of English at Chulalongkorn University), German architect Karl Siegfried Döhring, Swiss artist Michael Rudolph Wening (court sculptor for King Vajiravudh), and possibly also Italian artist Carlo Rigoli and British Vice-Consul in Bangkok, Reginald Le May.

Phra Samut Chedi, Chao Phraya River, Samut Prakan. Oil painting, signed F. S. Harrop, 1929. British Library, FSHA 1362. ©William R. Harrop

Frederick S. Harrop’s collection was given to the British Library in 2023 (books and one manuscript) and 2024 (artworks and archive). It is a collection of great diversity and consists of Harrop’s own artworks and designs, works of students at the School of Arts and Crafts in Bangkok, research materials, books and archival files. 592 photographs, 81 watercolours and 55 oil paintings by Frederick S. Harrop, one watercolour by Edith Harrop, 11 sketchbooks, as well as 153 prints, drawings, blueprints, stencils and printing blocks are now held in the Library’s Visual Art collections. In addition, 38 books and periodicals, one palm leaf manuscript, commercial designs, printed works on silk and paper, drafts for speeches and publications, and numerous other archival files documenting Harrop’s work in Bangkok were added to the Thai collection. These materials will be made accessible (by appointment) in the Library’s Prints and Drawings Room as soon as cataloguing and conservation treatment (where necessary) have been completed.

Jana Igunma (Henry Ginsburg Curator for Thai, Lao and Cambodian) and William R. Harrop (London) 

This is a short version of the full article “Frederick S. Harrop (1887 – 1969) and the modernisation of Thai book and graphic design” in the SEALG Newsletter, Dec. 2024; pp. 87-116.
More posts in the series “Exploring Thai art”:
Exploring Thai art: James Low (published 2016) 
Exploring Thai art: Doris Duke (published 2016) 

The opening page of the Mir'at featuring a richly decorated unvan with gold floral decorations and a description, in Ottoman (in Osman Reşer's hand?) of the name, date and authorship of the work. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, f 1v)

It’s not uncommon to find texts within our Ottoman holdings that speak to the history and culture of regions across Eurasia, and even the Americas. Whether translations of Arabic and Persian texts, or original Ottoman compositions, the manuscripts attest a keen interest in West Asia, South-East Europe, North Africa, the Hejaz, and Iran. And, of course, among the first printed books produced in the Ottoman Empire was the Tarihü’l-Hindü’l-garbî, a guide to the Americas cobbled together from Spanish and Italian sources. One volume that we hold, however, provides a different view to a particular Ottoman’s interest in a neighbouring Empire not often featured in other Ottoman works.

Or 11226, known as the Mir’atü’l-hubûş (Mirror of the Ethiopians), is a rare text in both Arabic and Ottoman Turkish that explores the origins, culture, religion, and relations of the Ethiopians (hubûş). Copied by Mekkî Ali İbn-i Mustafa İbn-i Ali el-Müderris in 1020 AH (1611-12 CE), the volume collates information gathered from myriad Arabic sources, including collections of aḥādīth. The British Museum purchased it from the well-known Istanbul-based dealer Osman Reşer né Oskar Rescher on 10 May 1930. To date, I have found only one other copy of the Mir’at, a manuscript from 1020 AH held at the Süleymaniye Kütüphanesi (Esat Efendi 484) in İstanbul. The microfilm of the manuscript is described in an article in Adıyaman Üniversitesi Sosyal Bilimler Enstitüsü Dergisi by Dr. Metin Demirci of Kahramanmaraş Sütçü İmam Üniversitesi. An English-language description of the work and its creator, fully contextualized among the other Ottoman texts about Ethiopians, was authored by Dr. Baki Tezcan in 2018 as part of the volume Disliking Others: Loathing, Hostility, Distrust in Premodern Ottoman Lands.

The title of the work, identifying Mekkî Ali in the same fashion as the Süleymaniye copy, and an ownership seal from Şeyh Ahmet Nehir (?) dated 1169 AH/1755-56 CE. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, f 1r)

Both the microfilm and the original manuscript are available on the Türkiye Yazma Eserler Kurumu Başkanlığı’s Database of Manuscripts. This provides us with the lucky opportunity to compare the manuscripts, despite their homes being at either end of Europe.

The Arabic-language start of the Mir'at including an explanation of the motivation for its authorship. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, ff 4r-v)

To start, the organization of the text is not quite the same in both copies. Both begin with a lengthy preamble glorifying Allah and his division of the peoples of the world into different races and ethnic groups, as well as describing the author’s motivations and praise for Sultan Ahmet I (reigned 1603-17 CE). Mekkî Ali does this first in Arabic and then in Ottoman, with the Ottoman providing occasional commentary on difficult words. From this section, we learn that Mekkî Ali travelled throughout Makkah, Madinah and other Arab lands between 980 and 995 AH (1572-86 CE; according to my reading of the Arabic text) and then, struck by a longing to return to them, he decided to uproot his family from Bursa, where he was a religious scholar or professor (müderris) and relocate to Makkah. While there, he was wowed by the diversity of people he met. He continued to be in awe of them after returning to “diyâr-i Rûm” (Anatolia) in 1007 AH (1598-99 CE), pushed by unfortunate and unfavourable occurrences to leave the Holy Cities. Tezcan clarifies that these circumstances were likely his refusal of a post in Madinah. After his return, Mekkî Ali decided to convert this wonder into a textual account of the Ethiopians, to pay tribute to those whose qualities he had admired.

The end of Mekkî Ali's explanation of the contents of the work including a marginal note. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, f 11r)

The alternation of Arabic and Ottoman Turkish with explanations continues through a Mukaddime, and then four ebvâp, each of which contains five fusûl. The first bap describes the merits of the Ethiopians; the second tackles the origins and characteristics of Najashi, the Aksumite King who gave refuge to early Muslims fleeing Makkah; the third, the Ethiopian Companions of the Prophet Muhammad (الصحابة); the fourth explores cultured Muslim notables of Ethiopian extraction (اهل الآداب في اصل الحبوش), before a very brief ending (but not a hatime). A brief marginal note on f 11r explains that fasleyn 4 and 5 of bâp 3 have been merged. This is because of the author’s inability to distinguish between various notables springing from Ethiopian mothers and the men of the Quraysh and the ṣaḥābah on the one hand and those springing from the Bayt al-ṭāhirīn and the ‘abbasī Caliphs on the other. In general, the sections aimed to provide readers with an understanding of the early history of the Ethiopians; their social and political divisions; and their importance in the early history of Islam.

Demirci describes the Arabic sections as explanations of the Ottoman parts, but, in fact, the Arabic text (overlined in red in the British Library copy only) always precedes the Ottoman. Indeed, a closer look at the two versions of the Mir’at shows that it is the British Library one, rather than the Sülemaniye copy, that is the more complete version, as the latter awkwardly skips a large section of Arabic text found on BL Or 11226 ff 4v-5r where Mekkî Ali explains he has gathered Arabic-language sources “translating them into Turkish so that their benefits are generalized and their comprehension easy.” (“ومترجما بعده باللسان التركي ليعم نفعه ويسهل فهمه”) The Ottoman sections, then, are translations replete with additional glosses to assist readers in understanding complex words and phrasing. As Tezcan points out, the Mir’at is part of a longer Arabic-language tradition of writing about Africans. Indeed, the Arabic texts include a marginal مطلب explaining the content, present throughout the BL text and at the front of the Süleymaniye copy, but absent from the Ottoman translations in both, which is why I assume the Arabic is original rather than a ta‘rīb of the Turkic text.

Apart from the missing sections of the Arabic text, the Süleymaniye copy follows much the same structure as the British Library one, but there are obvious differences in calligraphy and embellishment. While the Süleymaniye copy has lovely, even nesih that sits very firmly on a lower line, the BL’s holding is more cursive, a bit quicker and even occasionally sloppier, contrasting with its gold text frames and elaborate unvan. Moreover, despite a few marginal notes in the Süleymaniye copy, it is largely a clean one, while the Ottoman, and occasionally the Arabic, texts in the British Library copy have interlinear additions and corrections.

The Mir'at's colophon, including the name of the copyist and his profession, as well as the date. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, f 115v)

The colophon for the British Library copy appears to have been added after the completion of the volume. When compared to the Sülemaniye copy, which has only the simple statement that the work was completed by the grace of God, our holding is far more verbose and eloquent. The author of the Süleymaniye copy is only identified by a brief inscription on the top-left of the first folio where the author’s name is only given as Mekkî Alî el-Mes’ûl, possibly in a similar hand to the colophon of Or 11226. A similar note is found on f 1r of Or 11226. But in our copy's colophon, in contrast, in an almost-nestalik hand, the scribe identifies himself as Makkī ‘alī bin Muṣṭafá bin ‘alī al-mudarris of the Medrese-yi Valide-yi Sultan Mehmet Han İbn-i Murat Han at that time. The use of the Arabic adverb يومئذ (on that day) indicates that either he or his grandfather was a teacher when the text was copied, but I think it most likely that the epithet relates to Ali the grandson and not the grandfather. The school that he refers to might be the Safiya Mosque Complex in Cairo, constructed in 1019 AH (1610-11 CE) and dedicated to the Safiye Sultan, mother of III. Mehmet Sultan. The complex was initially under the supervision of the former Chief Eunuch of the Court Osman Ağa, loyal to Safiye Sultan throughout decades of Palace intrigues.

But this does not quite accord with Tezcan’s estimation of the author. He identifies Mekkî Ali as Ali Habî, “a professor of law from Bursa who is known to have held an appointment in Mecca in 1005/1596-97.” Tezcan has made use of considerable external resources to match the biography provided at the start of the Mir’at, coming up with a jurist who might fit the bill. In both copies, Mekkî Ali makes reference to a patron or protector, Mustafa Ağa, whom, based on the Ottoman Turkish description on f 7v of the Süleymaniye copy, Tezcan identifies as the Chief Eunuch, an Ethiopian himself. There are only minor changes in the honourifics found in the same passage of the British Library copy, but Or 11226’s Arabic text describes this patron as Muṣṭafá Aghā bin ‘abd al-Mannān. I’ve yet to find a source with the name of Mustafa Ağa’s father, but, of course, such information might help us to determine a bit more about Mekkî Ali’s identity and allegiances.

There are plenty of unanswered questions around Mir’atü’l-hubûş. For some time, scholars have sought to answer these making use of only one copy of the work. The comparison of the Süleymaniye and British Library copies will undoubtedly help to clarify some of these mysteries, perhaps creating new ones along the way.

Dr. Michael Erdman, Head, Middle East and Central Asia

I'd like to thank Shalom Njoki of Queen Mary's University for pointing me to Dr. Baki Tezcan's chapter. 

Further Reading

Demirci, M. (2020) ‘Fakîr Mekkî Ali’nin Hāẕā Mir’ātu’l-hubūş fi’l-uṣūl Adlı Elyazma Eseri.’ Adıyaman Üniversitesi Sosyal Bilimler Enstitüsü Dergisi , 13, 34: 50-91.

Hathaway, J. (2018) The Chief Eunuch of the Ottoman Harem: From African Slave to Power Broker (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press) (YC.2019.a.10249)

Junne, G. (2016) The Black Eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire: Networks of Power in the Court of the Sultan (London: I.B. Tauris). (YC.2017.a.9466)

Tezcan, B. (2018) “Dispelling the Darknessof the Halberdier’s Treatise : A Comparative Look at Black Africans in Ottoman Letters in the Early Modern Period.” Karateke, H., Çıpa, H., Anetshofer, H., Disliking Others: Loathing, Hostility, Distrust in Premodern Ottoman Lands (Boston: Academic Studies Press): 43-74. (YC.2019.a.4967)